


Inked Words

by itsmoonpeaches



Series: Ten Thousand Things [3]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Air Nomads (Avatar), Dead Aang (Avatar), F/M, Family, Family Feels, Jinora (Avatar)-centric, Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Jinora/Kai, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Post-Avatar: The Legend of Korra, Spirit World, Spirit World (Avatar), Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmoonpeaches/pseuds/itsmoonpeaches
Summary: “See, Gran Gran, it’s like this,” Jinora said, excitement painting every movement. She moved her arms wildly, mimicking the shape of a circle. “The ancient Air Nomads believed in spiral movements because the wind moves like that, so they built their forms and lives around it. The circle represents the energy of life and destruction, good and evil…everything has an opposite and everything is connected. It leads to an infinite cycle.”Jinora placed her elbows on the table, eager to explain more of what she had learned. The wood was hard against her arms, a little uncomfortable. However, she had hardly noticed it as she continued to speak.Katara chuckled, putting a hand on top of hers. “And you found this all out from that scroll you discovered in the library the other day?” she asked with an incredulous expression.Jinora giggled. She brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek, a bit pleased. “Of course,” she replied.-Or, Jinora begins to share the history and culture of the Air Nomads with the world.
Relationships: Aang & Jinora (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Jinora & Katara (Avatar), Jinora & Tenzin (Avatar), Jinora/Kai (Avatar), Katara & Tenzin (Avatar)
Series: Ten Thousand Things [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976455
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	Inked Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final installment of Ten Thousand Things. What started out as a one-shot, has evolved into this madness. This, above all else, is the story about the journey of a family that struggles with a past that they thought they lost. That is the story that I wanted to tell here, and I hope it came off well! I also hope you all enjoyed it up until now, and that you'll enjoy this one!

“See, Gran Gran, it’s like this,” Jinora said, excitement painting every movement. She moved her arms wildly, mimicking the shape of a circle. “The ancient Air Nomads believed in spiral movements because the wind moves like that, so they built their forms and lives around it. The circle represents the energy of life and destruction, good and evil…everything has an opposite and everything is connected. It leads to an infinite cycle.”

Jinora placed her elbows on the table, eager to explain more of what she had learned. The wood was hard against her arms, a little uncomfortable. However, she had hardly noticed it as she continued to speak.

Katara chuckled, putting a hand on top of hers. “And you found this all out from that scroll you discovered in the library the other day?” she asked with an incredulous expression.

Jinora giggled. She brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek, a bit pleased. “Of course,” she replied.

The streaming sunlight that came from the single octagonal window made her Gran Gran look like she was an evanescent spirit. Her silver tresses and looped hair that framed her face were limned with yellow-gold. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with kindness and humor.

For a woman of one-hundred and twelve, Katara aged gracefully. She did not look much different from when Jinora was a child. Maybe her hair was a little whiter, and her wrinkles a little deeper. But she was still the vivacious grandmother that she had always known. She emitted wisdom, a knowing that Jinora had come to admire deep within herself throughout the years.

The two of them sat in the tearoom of the Western Air Temple. It was a rather small, cozy space near the dormitories of the temple. It was also one of Jinora’s most favorite places. She liked to come there to read, to have some time for herself when she needed. It was where Kai had proposed to her a decade ago, where she had first told him she was pregnant with their first child, Ronan seven years ago. Their five-year-old son, Ehan loved to accompany her often. He always asked her to read Great Grandpa Aang’s journals aloud to him right before his afternoon nap.

She had decided to put her roots down here, to raise her own family. Gone were the days of the traditional Air Nomads, ones that separated men and women and raised their children apart from their parents. However, those that wished to do so were given the choice. Acolytes and airbenders settled in each of the remaining temples. The Northern Air Temple was slowly being reinvigorated and rebuilt on another mountaintop, those who preferred the nomadic lifestyle roamed the earth with promises of blessings and community service.

Though there were many changes, the culture stayed alive and true. They remained vegetarians, believed in peaceful practices, stayed the most spiritual nation out of the four.

All life was considered sacred, even the life of the tiniest spider fly caught in its own web. Jinora’s father had repeated that statement over and over to her as she grew up, determined that she understood the truth of it.

“That is the heart of our culture, Jinora,” Tenzin had told her as he continued to. “Now that you are a spiritual leader and a master, I know you know this. But no matter how things seem to change, this is what we as a people will always uphold. There is nothing more important than the life of another, and each other’s lives. There is nothing more important than learning to be at peace with the notion that even our enemies deserve to live. This is who we are.”

She had learned later that this was exactly what his father taught him. That this, of all the things he was taught, was what Grandpa Aang had emphasized. Tenzin may have remembered his father as the rest of the world had—a great Avatar with a legacy—but he never forgot his compassion.

Nearly a full century after the Hundred Year War’s end, the world had changed. Jinora was not sure if it were for the better, but she could see the hope in her Gran Gran’s eyes every time she spoke of the revival of the Air Nation. There was a spark there that only appeared when Jinora rambled on about the teachings she had read in Wan Shi Tong’s library when she decided to visit the Spirit World. A shift, a quirk of her lips. Like Katara held her own personal secret close to her chest.

“The Air Nomads have such a beautiful culture,” her Gran Gran mused. She sat back in her chair, hands cupping the steaming ceramic mug in front of her. The earthy scent of Labrador tea wafted in the air.

“All cultures are beautiful,” said Jinora. She reached for a blackberry from the wooden bowl in between them. The sweet and tart taste exploded on her tongue, and she sighed in contentment.

“That’s a wise answer,” Katara approved. “You sound just like your father.”

“I hope to be a great teacher like him one day,” Jinora remarked.

“You already are. You’ve grown into an airbending master that the world and the Air Nation respects.”

Jinora laughed, shaking her head. She pilfered another berry before answering. “I don’t know about that,” she said.

“I think it’s wonderful, Jinora,” her Gran Gran said with a gentle, indulgent smile. “You should share this knowledge. You have so much of it.”

“I do share it,” Jinora insisted, pouting.

“With the acolytes,” added Katara, “but there are so many other people. Teach them too. Teach the world about the cultures and people we’ve almost lost. Sokka always said that knowledge is how you keep the dead alive. I know that if there is anyone who can do it, it’s you.”

“You think so?” she asked her Gran Gran, feeling embarrassed.

“I know so.”

Praise from her grandmother was never rare, but this felt different somehow. The way Katara looked at her, from the shine in her eyes to the soft expression on her face, it was as if she was pleading for her to accept. Jinora wondered if she were right, that there might be more that she could do.

They sat in a comfortable silence after that, taking the time to enjoy the snacks between them. Katara glimpsed the vase of panda lilies to her left that sat atop a narra chest full of dried tea leaves and extra tin and china cups. There were still globules of water on the black and white petals. Someone must have watered them recently. She plucked one from the vase, bringing the flower to her nose and smiling as she sniffed it.

“Did you know this is my favorite flower?” asked her Gran Gran, glancing back up to Jinora’s face. “It has the loveliest scent, and you can only find it on the rim of a volcano. Not many are brave enough to pick them.”

Jinora tilted her head. “I never knew,” she responded. “For some reason I thought your favorite flower was a fire lily.”

Katara chuckled. She held the panda lily in her fingers, twirling its stem between them. “The fire lily is pretty, and both the fire lily and panda lily mean the same thing in the Fire Nation and Earth Republic…they’re both symbols of love.” She sighed, slowly spinning the flower in the opposite direction. “But the panda lily is special to me. You saw that your grandfather left me a flower in his last journal…it was also the flower he gave to me every time he knew he would have to leave for a few days. He said that he wanted me to know that even though his Avatar duties might keep him away sometimes, that he would never stop thinking of me. That he would always love me.”

If there was one conversation that got her grandmother to speak wistfully, it was every time she spoke of Grandpa Aang. Jinora knew that Katara had lost a lot throughout her lifetime, including her own mother at an early age. Her age provided insight to just how much she lost too, because now she was the last one left out of her generation of friends. She was one of the few people left alive that had seen war.

“You loved him a lot,” observed Jinora. She finished the bowl of berries.

Katara nodded. “I still do,” she said. “He was the only one besides my brother and father that really understood me. My best friends did too…but Aang…Aang always knew what I needed. Sometimes, even better than I did.”

“That reminds me of Kai,” Jinora beamed. A warmth blossomed in her middle. She thought of how he knew just how to make her laugh when she was feeling down. He really had a way with words.

“That’s the kind of love you want. I’m glad you found it.”

There was a sudden ringing that interrupted them. A bell of some sort. Jinora thought she recognized it. With an instant clarity, she remembered why they were there, and it clicked.

She sat up straight, overflowing with excitement. “Well, I guess they’re ready for us! Are you ready to meet Chiyo, Gran Gran?” She gripped the edges of the table, eager to move.

Katara smiled but did not say anything. She looked more radiant than ever somehow, a beacon of serenity.

Unfazed, Jinora stood, her chair screeching against the hardwood floorboards. She gestured to her grandmother, stepping around the table to help her up. “Oh, Chiyo is such a pretty baby!” she grinned, tugging at Katara’s arm. They were soon standing together. “Meelo and Rei are so happy to have a little girl, and can you believe it…Ikki _squealed_ when she saw her! Rohan is on his way from a trip, and mom and dad are so excited that you’ve come to visit too to see her!”

Katara breathed in, patting Jinora’s hand that hooked at the crook of her elbow. “I don’t think I’ll be able to meet her today,” she said, eyes crinkling. “There’s somewhere I need to go.”

The door leading outside cracked open as if by itself on an invisible thread. There was no one on the other side that had moved it. Pale yellow light cascaded through, a curtain of transparent gold flooding the room. Jinora could barely make out any silhouettes just beyond the exit.

“Where are you going?” asked Jinora, surprised. She took a step forward, pulling her grandmother along.

They stopped just at the doorframe, turning to each other for a quick moment. When Jinora caught her grandmother’s eye, it was to see something else there that she had not noticed before. Unbridled joy, a little sadness. There was something pleasant, something that resonated in her ears like a newborn’s heartbeat strumming inside a mother’s womb. And, if Jinora was honest with herself, it felt like she was on the brink of a beginning she could not name.

Katara’s smile was tender. She kissed Jinora’s forehead before walking to the door. She tucked the panda lily behind her ear. “A place that I love,” she said, “Home.”

Katara held onto the brass handle, not hesitating for one instant. Jinora thought she could see the shadow of someone outside, and the sound of a delighted soprano laugh rang throughout. For a second her grandmother looked younger, maybe around the age of a teenager. She shot her a final look over her shoulder, tears pooling at the corners of her bright blue eyes. Her smile never disappeared.

Katara slipped through the crack. The door shut just as she disappeared into the light.

The ringing of the bell grew louder and louder. So unbearable, that Jinora searched for it at every part of the tearoom.

She woke up to the sound of the telephone clicking on. Kai was next to her, handing her the receiver with a groggy expression. She clasped it in her hand, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and pressed it to her ear.

“Hello? Who is this? It’s early,” she groaned.

“Jinora,” said Ikki’s voice on the line. It was rough, crackling. “Last night, Gran Gran passed away.”

-

On a particularly wet and cold day, Jinora found herself visiting the Spirit World. Not via the spirit portal, but the traditional way. She wanted to be away from the crowds of Republic City, and so avoided the heavily trafficked entrance. While there were regulations in place on who and when the Spirit World could be visited through the portal, there were still too many passersby for Jinora to be comfortable. She wanted, more than anything else, to do this alone.

Before she could close her eyes to meditate, however, her youngest son interrupted. “Mommy, are you gonna go visit great Gran Gran?” he asked, nibbling his bottom lip. He was small for his age and looked so much like Kai. Though, he did have her hazel irises.

She shook her head. “You know the Spirit World isn’t an afterlife, Ehan,” she explained as she patted his tiny head. “Especially for someone who isn’t the Avatar.”

He scrunched his nose. “But didn’t you see great Gramp Gramp there?”

Jinora sniffed, letting herself think of that distant time. She chuckled in a single breath. She bent forward to tap her nose to Ehan’s. “He was the Avatar, remember? Like Korra,” she explained. “I know you want to see them, my little lemur, but not yet. One day you will.”

Ehan grinned, bouncing on his feet. “Okay, mommy! I wanna show them stuff like I show not-great-Gran Gran and Gramp Gramp! When I do, I’m gonna show them my air scooter…” He hesitated. “When I can make one!”

Jinora laughed as she watched her son sprint away. At the end of the hall that led to the pavilion she sat under, his older brother met him to play a game of air ball. Ronan flashed Ehan his marble trick, and they were giggling like the enthusiastic pair they were. Jinora shut her eyes to the happy sight.

She lost herself in the familiar ebb and flow of spiritual energy. There was a tingle that rippled across her skin, and she knew that she had arrived.

This time as she wandered the Spirit World, she did not feel the panic set in that she had as an adolescent. She had had a lot more time to get to know it. She knew the roads, the twisted spires, the colorful energies that mushroomed in and out of control, the strange seasons that never made any sense. Nevertheless, the Spirit World was always magical. That never changed.

The material world did not have the same ethereal feeling, the same kind of pulsating atmosphere that permeated every pore and every sight.

She waded through the hot sand, splashed through the banyan grove filled with saltwater and briny, slick surfaces. The grains of sand filtered into the cool water; the sky shone a verdant green. There were no clouds in the sky except for a swathe of bobbling indistinguishable purple balls of light. Crickets chirped; the growl of a cat gator resounded against stout tree trunks.

She made her way up a hill, peering over the crest to see a fox with glowing eyes staring at her at the entrance to Wan Shi Tong’s upside-down library. She followed it inside.

Jinora was met with mosaics and the tile flooring she had become accustomed to. In the far corner, she spotted the hall that would lead to the bookshelves that housed the history of the Air Nomads. Instead of moving toward it, she stopped and called, “Wan Shi Tong! I’m here to make a request!”

There was that rustle of air, and soon a great black and white owl swooped onto the bridge, alighting with a graceful _swish._ The spirit lowered his gaze, midnight eyes boring into hers. “You have been welcome here, Jinora. What more do you ask?”

She took a deep breath, willing herself to voice her request. She needed the courage more than anything. She thought of Katara. “Years ago, you allowed two humans to come to your library…me and my grandfather, Avatar Aang.”

“Yes,” agreed the owl, “and that promise has been kept.”

“But Avatar Aang left this plane for the afterlife with the other Avatars,” she continued. “And now, I’m the only one left that can access this knowledge. Please, allow me and my family to share more of it together.”

Wan Shi Tong reeled backward, and Jinora knew she had made him angry. His wings flapped wildly, churning the air like a storm about to fall. The ground thundered, and she struggled to keep her balance. Gravel trickled from the ceiling. She reached for a stone banister.

“You _dare_ ask this of me after all I have done for you?” bellowed Wan Shi Tong, his dark beak opening with wrathful vigor. “That’s an impudent ask!” 

Jinora steadied herself, straightening. She peered at him with defiance. “It’s not impudent! It’s me and the people of the world _begging_ for you to give us what we lost because you are the only one that can provide it! I know you don’t care for humans. I know that we betrayed you. I can’t promise that someday we won’t betray you again, but I can promise you that all those spirits and all those people who were lost during the Hundred Year War deserve to have their stories told!

“Aren’t you tired of being against each other? Isn’t that why you took back your library? All you wanted was to protect what you love, but what you love is something that should be shared. All of it, even the love for my people, is something I share. So, why can’t you?”

The rumbling stopped. A Knowledge Seeker fox skittered inside, hiding behind a pillar. It stared at the pair of them with wide, curious eyes. Somehow, Jinora knew the creature was scared.

“My grandfather never got to see the revival of the Air Nomads,” she continued on, palms trembling at her sides. “My grandmother never had a true master of Southern Style Waterbending until it was almost too late. Fire Lord Zuko never got to learn firebending that didn’t come from rage until he was forced to. Chief Sokka never got to experience traditional ice dodging. My father and his siblings had so much put on them growing up, just because they were two halves of lost cultures.”

“What does that have to do with my library, human?” questioned Wan Shi Tong. But his voice was a whisper, as if he were anticipating an answer he was not sure what to make of.

Jinora pressed her lips together, balling her hands into fists. “Don’t you see?” she implored. “There is so much more that was lost than the Air Nomads. There are people and cultures that have started to disappear. Knowledge that will never be known again. Yes, humans helped to cause this, but by not giving what you know to those left behind, you’ve become part of the destruction too. And I know that no spirit, no matter who they are, likes to be the cause of imbalance.”

Silence, an unbreakable quiet. She could hear it in her head, the words that her grandmother had said in her dreams: _Teach them too._ There was so much more out there, so much more than her little bubble of acolytes and airbenders. There were other people that deserved to be remembered.

“Knowledge is how you keep the dead alive,” said Jinora, and she never backed down.

In truth, there was nothing else that needed to be said. Wan Shi Tong did not move, not for a long while. It felt like an eternity in which nothing occurred, but he swept his wings and showed her the secret entrances to the books and scrolls of those that no longer had a voice.

“You and yours may come to this library. You and your descendants will be keepers of it, and until one of you breaks the pact to never use this knowledge you gain for nefarious purposes, this shall be our new promise,” he stated, dropping his head. “You have my respect, Jinora of the Air Nation…and you have my trust. It seems that though I know ten-thousand things, there are ten-thousand more I can learn, and can allow your kind to learn. That is why you will do what I ask of you.”

“And what is that?”

“As you said, there was more lost than the Air Nomads,” he clarified. “You will share the history and cultures of those lost, and this will be your duty to the human world. The Southern Water Tribe, the Hami Tribe, the Fifth Nation, the Sun Warriors…regardless of their pasts they were and are still part of your world. I trust you will do them justice.”

Jinora gasped. “I’m honored but…the Fifth Nation…they were criminals during Kyoshi’s time! They stole people and made them slaves!”

“That is why their story must be told, Jinora,” commanded Wan Shi Tong. “If spirits and humans are to continue to work together, we must all learn from our pasts. The Fifth Nation had their sins, but so did the other lost and dimming cultures. All of it, the corrupt and the magnificent, must be shared. This is the way of truth and wisdom.” 

Jinora bowed to him because she knew what he said was right. In all human history, there were never those who were perfect. History was written by the ones who won, not the ones who lost. Inked words etched into the annals of the past. Forever there, forever the reminder that there was much more to be learned from.

She accepted. For her people, for her relatives, for those of her grandparents’ generation that never got to have their voices heard. It was what her grandmother would have wanted. It was what her grandfather never got to have.

She returned to her body when the rain had spun into a drizzle. The sun began to peek out from behind gray cumulous clouds. She stood, knees cracking under her weight, and walked down the pavilion steps.

Beyond her, she saw the skyline of Republic City, just as grand and majestic as it always had been. The spirit portal shrieked through the horizon, vivid and dazzling. She let the soft light of it guide her path to her childhood home on Air Temple Island. She was glad that she had visited her parents for the month. She knew her father was having a hard time without the warm presence of his mother.

In the open hallways, droplets slid from the roof to the cobbled stones. The fountain bubbled and overflowed. Acolytes ran inside, trying to keep the clothes they had been drying outside from getting soaked through. It was foggy, leftover mist that had left trails from what had once been pouring rain rose from the earth. It was one of those moments when she was glad to be an airbender because she was sure that if she were not, she would have been cold.

Jinora knew where her father would be. It was often where he was when he wanted to be alone, and often where she had found him since Katara left them behind.

She found Tenzin sitting on the end of the dock overlooking Yue Bay. The statue of Avatar Aang was a resolute presence that shielded them from view. For an elderly man, he was defiant and strong. His legs were crossed, and he was in a meditative pose. She knew that he was not really meditating.

“Dad,” she said as she sat next to him. She glanced at him, seeing him open his eyes. “I need your help. I want to start a library.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Where did this come from?” he queried, sounding hoarse. His eyes were lined in red.

“Wan Shi Tong,” she offered without much explanation. “But Gran Gran was the one who inspired me. I want to do this. I know you’re the best person to ask.”

“Your grandmother, huh?”

She smiled. “And everyone before her,” she said.

For the first time in weeks, Tenzin laughed. “Right,” he decided, “and everyone before her.” He rose from the dock, taking Jinora with him. They looked out into the bay. “You have a name for it? What about where to put it?”

She smirked, her body shaking with mirth. “It’s pretty boring, but I’m thinking of calling it the Library of Lost Cultures and History. We’ll put it near Republic City University and make it public. The students and professors can go there too. We’ll put a statue of Gran Gran at the front…she really needs one. She was the one who said I should share the knowledge, after all.”

“Oh?”

“Right, dad,” she went on. “Then, we’ll put dedications to Grandpa Aang inside too…near the Air Nomads section.” She raised a hand arcing it into a gesture, as if imagining a wall. “The Hami Tribe will be next to the Sun Warriors, and there will be this huge mural dedicated to lost and almost-lost cultures…”

Tenzin’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “What would you call the mural?”

Jinora was sure of this one, surer of it than anything else. Without waiting another beat, she said, “Ten Thousand Things.”

That night, she took a scroll she had borrowed from Wan Shi Tong’s library and unfurled it on her writing desk. She spread a blank piece of parchment before her, intent on smoothing out all the wrinkles. She wanted everything to be perfect. She dipped her brush into the well of black ink and began to document her people’s history.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you ALL for reading this and following if you have! 
> 
> A quick note:
> 
> Narra is a type of wood found in Southeast Asia that has a distinctive red hue. It's very popular for furniture. This tree also happens to be the national tree of the Philippines.


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